A spark of madness.
That was all it took.
And it blood first in one corner of the Plane, dark and insidious, catching like fire on old parchnt.
The Celestbone Stage High Elves surged forward, the runes along their limbs glowing a radiant gold-green.
Arrows ford in their hands, each one swirling with threads of condensed Primordial Energy, lines of Yggdrasilic glyphs weaving around their attacks.
They launched them in rapid succession, the arrows screaming through the air like thunder given form.
The mont the first volley neared the Lunaris Throne, a colossal illusion unfurled above the Capital.
A titanic silhouette of Yggdrasil blood into being, its glowing erald branches stretching high above the clouds. It lood over the city like an ancient guardian, roots spreading across the skyline. Its shimring leaves rained down particles of Primordial Light, buffing the High Elves and bathing the battlefield in a holy, green-gold luster.
And yet, the Lunaris Throne did not retreat.
Within him, the whispers swelled. The voice of the Primordial Light of Darkness curled along the edge of his mind like smoke from a deep, unseen fire.
"Energy," the voice said, smooth and unhurried, "is a tool. Primordial. Evolutius. It matters not what flavor it carries."
"What matters is its complexity."
The words echoed like ancient truth.
"The more intricate the weave, the harder it is to unravel. The more layered the thread, the more terrifying its bite. The scythe in your hand, boy- it bears complexity older than the stars. Authority heavy enough to bend faith. Use it. Show them all."
"Show them you are not forgotten."
"Show them that you will beco a na that echoes across the history of this Plane of Existence."
HUUUM!
A chill swept through the capital.
Then ca the swing.
The Lunaris Throne twirled in midair and cut down.
The blade hissed, singing no tune of tal, only that of unraveling. From the scythe, a wave of absolute darkness erupted. Not dark like shadow. Not dark like night. But dark like the space between stars- emptiness born before light.
The blast swept outward like an executioner’s blade, black arcs twisting like scythes of wind. Five of the Luminblood Stage High Elves were hit head-on. They had no chance to defend.
Their bodies disintegrated.
Crushed. Scattered. As if their very structure had been denied by the stars.
One of the Celestbone Stage Elves was struck at the edge of the blast. His side exploded, chunks of burning, radiant flesh crashing down onto a lower platform. He roared in pain, stunned, blood mixing with drifting starlight.
The remaining High Elves froze in horror.
What was that?
It was not Primordial. It was not Evolutius.
What the hell was that?!
Even the injured Celestbone being stared with wide eyes. Sothing had ruptured in his understanding of what was possible. "That energy..." he muttered. "It doesn’t belong to this Plane!"
HUUM!
Behind him, one of the surviving Luminblood warriors hovered in place, awaiting orders. The Celestbone Elf clenched his jaw and roared, "Send word! To Pride of Aeonthar! To our Highborn Continent! Move!"
...!
The Luminblood Stage High Elves turned.
And a gaze locked on them, as if it would end them before they spread word!
But just as the Lunaris Throne’s eyes locked onto them, ready to swing once more, the voice returned.
"Let them go."
The command halted his motion.
"There is no beauty in a fire that must chase its fuel," said the voice, now darkly amused. "To start a true blaze, you must gather the drywood. The oil. The air."
"A clever fire waits."
"Let them co to you."
"Let them bring the fla."
The Lunaris Throne lowered his blade.
Not from rcy.
But because he understood.
And at that mont, as if fate itself nodded in approval, the Dark Star Scythe flared in his grasp. Power surged through his bones- violent and euphoric. His flesh boiled for a breath. Then it settled.
His body exploded with luminous energy as he stepped beyond the boundary.
Neuronova.
His veins throbbed with power. Starfire swirled in his bones and synapses. He floated, trembling in ecstasy, as the full might of his next stage settled into him like a crown.
He laughed quietly.
And thought of Achilles Maxwell.
Of the man he had feared. The enemy who had eclipsed him again and again.
Maybe now... maybe now he wouldn’t be so easy to kill.
Maybe now, he couldn’t be killed at all.
He spun once more and descended with his blade.
Screams rose again.
Blood of humans and Ancient Ones alike flowed freely through the capital streets. The brilliance of Yggdrasil’s illusion flickered and dimd, dimd beneath the unrelenting tide of gore.
The Capital of the Lunaris Colony Dynasty was being baptized in slaughter!
—
Far away.
In the Adrastia Continent.
Beneath skies of glimring sapphire, the Sea of Thalassara churned with serenity and beauty.
Colossal coral pillars rose from the depths like monunts, glowing with bioluminescent light. Fish with crystalline fins darted through the waters. Whales coated in shimring pearl skin soared past like celestial creatures.
Streams of rainbow-colored eels spun around floating reefs of translucent shells.
Among it all, Thalassarians swam in great schools, alongside the assimilated Atlantians whose bodies now glowed faintly with spores of control as they sought to establish new underwater citadels.
They lived within this new ocean, under the rule of a new king!
An Emperor King!
Upon a great platform of multicolored coral, shaped like a throne made from underwater aurora, two figures floated.
Achilles.
Rose.
Both wore sleek Primordium Evolutius Magitech Suits, pulsing with purple and gold. Their forms glowed, armored in the pinnacle of wonder.
Achilles himself looked unfathomable. Unshakable. Even the sea itself trembled near him.
His hair floated gently behind him. His eyes, radiant with control, swept over the ocean with quiet calculation.
Beside him, Rose smiled gently, her green fla-lit eyes brimming with joy. Her flaming hair shimred in the water, wild and beautiful.
"I never thought I’d see sothing like this," she whispered.
He nodded.
But a mont later, his gaze changed.
His expression darkened.
He slowly looked up toward the surface of the sea, where distant forces stirred. His eyes sharpened. His pupils constricted.
Destiny Perception pulsed.
And Achilles frowned as he sensed sothing!
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